


d-d-d-duel!

by iamsolarflare, ThaneZain



Series: it's a Fallen London/Minecraft Youtube au [5]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, Hermitcraft, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Tag wranglers stop tagging Hermitcraft as RPF challenge, Temporary Character Death, also featuring: glassmen are just generally kinda creepy idk man, anyway zain came up with entirely different names so we're good, i HATE that ao3 has like. the actual names of the meat hermits, iskall but only mentioned like once, like no this is some yogs bullshit i'm on it is JUST characters, other assorted tags:, someone DOES get choked, zain if you're reading this feel free to change the fic title or delete these ramblings LMAO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsolarflare/pseuds/iamsolarflare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaneZain/pseuds/ThaneZain
Summary: in which: everyone takes a break from the plot, grian experiences ed, cocky jo shoots someone with a gun (NOT CLICKBAIT), and everyone has a lovely time at a black ribbon duel
Relationships: None
Series: it's a Fallen London/Minecraft Youtube au [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717144
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	d-d-d-duel!

**Author's Note:**

> everyone in this au has Fancy London Names so i'm just gonna. have this little disclaimer at the top of every fic.
> 
> characters appearing: Axel Quail Anderson (Grian), Levi "Mumbo" Valentin (MumboJumbo), 'Stress' Monroe (Stress), Doc "Sevens" Maddox (Docm77), Claire "False" Simmons (FalseSymmetry), Jonathon "Cocky Jo" Kannon (Kakujo), Sarc (name unchanged), and Ed (name unchanged).

Visitors were common at the small flat above the bookshop on Moloch Street. Still, when the bell rang at nearly four in the morning, Grian was absolutely baffled. Who was even awake at that hour?

Grian didn’t bother waking Mumbo, just scrubbed his eyes and made his way down the stairs to the private entrance. “Hello?” he mumbled, pushing open the door slowly. Too late he wondered if this was someone coming to repay a debt in blood and regretted not grabbing a weapon before he left his room.

Luckily for Grian, the person standing a reasonable couple paces away from the door didn’t exactly seem to be a pound-of-flesh type of person. Too gaunt and pale, eyes too focused. By all rights, the black-haired man also didn’t seem the type of person to be up at this hour either.

“Mister Anderson, I presume.” Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his voice was calm and even (if a bit high-pitched). Apparently he was, in fact, fully awake.

Grian blinked a few times, trying to process the man’s appearance and existence on his doorstep. “Grian’s fine,” he said, a bit more awake now despite his overwhelming urge to yawn. “And you are…?”

The man adjusted his shirt-collar - briefly jostling a pair of orange-tinted glasses that glinted dully in the faint light of the streetlamps - and extended one hand. “Call me Ed. I’m here to, er… deliver a message. Not my normal profession, but… well, odds and ends, you know how it is.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Grian said under his breath, eyes catching on the man’s glasses. Something about them felt strange, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly. He tentatively shook Ed’s hand, trying to glean any sort of information about him, but the man was a closed book. “What’s the message?”

“A mutual acquaintance of ours - Jonathon Kannon, I believe you might know him by his nickname - has an invitation to extend to you. Well, not strictly just you, I believe his exact words were ‘everyone on that ship, what’s-er-name, the one we went to Polythreme with.’ Apparently he’ll be engaged in his first Ribbon duel since his return here to London and would like your group to be able to watch, if so inclined.” Ed adjusted his collar again, expression still almost entirely as blank as before.

Grian squinted for several seconds before his face lit up as he finally placed the name. “Cocky Jo…” he muttered. The man had been an enigma, to say the least, but he had at least been invaluable in the Jack case. “Everybody on the ship, you said?” An invitation to a Black Ribbon duel wasn’t something to turn down. If anything, he’d at least drag Mumbo along to watch.

“Those were his exact words, yes.” He cocked his head just slightly to the side, eyes narrowed slightly as though he was trying to place something about Grian himself. It wasn’t exactly the most  _ pleasant _ manner of being stared at - in fact, considering that Ed’s facial expression still hadn’t changed from cold neutrality, it felt rather like he was some small creature being carefully observed for odd behavior.

Grian stood his ground under Ed’s scrutiny, somehow managing not to squirm. “Thank you for passing on the message,” he said stiffly. “Is there anything else you need?” It was only polite to ask, and Grian was hoping against hope that Ed wouldn’t answer. If it was up to him, he’d have closed the door and gone back to sleep, but his curiosity wasn’t going to let that happen.

One corner of Ed’s mouth turned upwards just slightly into a somewhat unpleasant smile. “You’re  _ welcome _ . I believe that concludes my business here, Mister Grian. I won’t keep you awake any longer.”

“Good day then,” Grian said, closing the door before Ed could respond further. He took a moment to shudder, thoroughly unnerved, then headed back up the stairs to bed. Unfortunately, despite being exhausted by the encounter, he only really managed to toss and turn sleeplessly before the lamps were lit for morning.

\--

“What color were your eyes when you were touched by Dawn?” Grian asked.

Mumbo was instantly on guard. “Orange,” he said carefully.

Grian sighed. “Yes, but actually no. It was different from orange, something else…” He shot to his feet and strode over to his disorganized bookcase, beginning to pull out books at random. “Did you see that children’s book around here recently?”

“Which one?” Mumbo asked, confused.

“The one about the—got it!” Grian cried, pulling a small paperback out from behind three dictionaries.

Mumbo looked over Grian’s shoulder. He was holding a slim dark volume entitled ‘The Neathbow.’ Grian flipped through the pages, past illustrations of coral and suns until he found the page he was looking for. “…Cosmogone?” Mumbo read quizzically.

Grian nodded, scanning the few words on the page. “‘The color of remembered suns. The fecund, the foetid, the fungal: these flourish in the glow of cosmogone.’” He shut the book and tapped the cover thoughtfully. “Now why would that man have glasses with cosmogone lenses?”

Mumbo’s brow furrowed. “It has connections to Parabola, I believe…” he said.

Grian began to pace. “Parabola…Cocky Jo…Ed…it doesn’t make sense. Cocky Jo’s a zailor, sometimes at least. Spends time at Polythreme. What’s he doing with a…” He snapped his fingers as though trying to remember something. “Ugh. I don’t know.”

“Maybe we can ask Ed at the duel if he’s there?” Mumbo asked, but Grian shook his head vigorously.

“Don’t want to deal with that man more than I have to,” he said. “No matter. We have an invitation to a Black Ribbon duel, which is exciting in and of itself. No use worrying about orange glasses.”

But neither of them could take their minds off it.

\--

When Grian gave False the invitation, she grinned almost savagely. “First timer, eh? Wonder who he’s up against. I’ll be there to see how the competition fares. Thanks.”

Joe was a bit less enthusiastic, hemming and hawing about unnecessary violence. “Just because we  _ can  _ die doesn’t mean we  _ should,” _ he said. “But the Black Ribbon are most known for being the best of the best, so it will probably be elegant death at the very least. I’ll be there if my schedule doesn’t overlap. I don’t have a schedule.”

Stress jumped at the opportunity to be free from work. “Just because it ain’t the holidays no more don’t mean I’m not busy,” she said. “But I’d  _ love  _ to go.”

Maddox frowned at the mention of the duel. “Ribbon… Mmh, maybe. A  _ fellow _ of mine will be on the other side of that confrontation, and as much as I would  _ love _ to see him taken down a notch, he is -” his grimace deepened “- unfortunately not an  _ unskilled _ individual. Kannon has his work cut out for him if the match is against who I suspect.”

Iskall, however, turned down the invitation, apologetically explaining that since the Jack case had been  _ mostly  _ solved he had been absolutely swamped with work. In any case, he was a Black Ribonner himself and could see matches at his own whim.

\--

Normally, Grian assumed, being a guest to a Ribbon duel, especially as invited by one of the fighters, would be a fairly clandestine affair, not exactly something to approach people excitedly about. Not so with Kannon, who practically bounded up to the assembled group. 

“Well! There’s several of you! It’s good to see you all again - False, Joe -” he paused, contorting his face in concentration “- Grian, Stress… I  _ don’t _ think I met you, so you must be that, uh, Dawnguy… you’ve gotta be the ship’s doctor, so you’d be Sev- er,  _ Maddox _ … Right. Yes!” He was practically bursting with energy, idly bouncing on his heels like he was about to break into a sprint - an  _ incredibly _ strange contrast to the person next to him, a certain black-haired man calmly adjusting a pair of cosmogone glasses hanging on his collar.

“ _ Dawnguy?” _ Mumbo hissed to Grian, who shushed him.

“Not now,” Grian murmured, grabbing Mumbo’s sleeve and dragging him to the other side of the group of people as Kannon practically leapt down towards the arena. “Don’t want to even have to stand  _ near _ him.”

“Oh, over there?” Mumbo asked, tall enough to see over everyone’s heads. “Glasses man?”

“Glasses man…” Grian said absently. “Yes, yes, that’s him, Ed. Wonder who he’s rooting for.”

“Hopefully Sarc if he wants a win,” False said from behind them, startling both men. “I’ve fought him before and he can be  _ nasty.” _

Maddox reached up to rub the bridge of his nose as if he’d gotten a headache from the mere mention of Sarc, but didn’t contribute to the conversation - he was silently staring at Ed, brow furrowed. “...I’m not so sure. There’s something  _ odd _ about him.”

“Oh, the glassman?” Joe asked suddenly, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“What the  _ hell  _ is a glassman?” Grian asked.

Joe shrugged. “You know. They walk the dreaming-roads.”

“The  _ what--” _

“Shh!” False hissed. “They’re about to start!”

\--

The second  _ begin! _ was called, nearly the whole crowd hushed instantly, going from excited chatter to low, quiet back-and-forth exchanges; the fighters themselves, however, did not move to action in the slightest - even Kannon, who just seconds ago had been full of idle movement, went very still.

Sarc leaned on his cane, staring intently at Kannon. “You  _ really _ going to wear a fine scarf like that into a duel to the death, good sir? I’d be  _ careful _ if I were you. Could get shredded  _ very _ easily by a stray blow.”

Kannon just shrugged, tugging at the scarf with one hand before slowly - not breaking eye contact - lowering that hand to his side and pulling out a small, battered hand-axe. “Does it matter?”

“I just think,” Sarc responded, grin widening, “it’d be a  _ shame _ to get blood on it.” He lunged, flipping his cane upwards and unsheathing his blade in one fluid motion; Kannon barely managed to deflect the blow with his hand-axe, twisting to avoid a savage stomp from the Seeker aimed directly at his feet.

Kannon took a step back, disengaging instead of closing in or following up on the blow; Sarc let out a sharp laugh and lunged again, feinting with his sword and then whacking him in the knees with the sheath in his other hand.

Kannon stumbled, visibly wincing, and then twisted his foot just  _ slightly _ before barrelling headlong into his opponent with one shoulder, knocking him back.

Maddox grimaced. “That’s - False, that’s not how you fight to the death. Kannon, I mean. Something’s going on with him.”

False squinted at the fight, calculating. “I’m not sure,” she said in a low voice. “Grian, didn’t you say this was his first fight?”

Grian flushed slightly. “Well, erm, first fight after returning from Polythreme, actually.”

“That explains it,” False said. “He’s got something up his sleeve. Watch him. He’s doing it on purpose.”

Maddox shook his head and turned his attention back to the fight; both of the duelists had disengaged, and Kannon was holding one hand to his shoulder, which was bleeding somewhat seriously.

“Sharp sword,” he said, tossing his axe down into the dirt.

Sarc raised an eyebrow. “I hate to bear bad news, but you  _ cannot _ back down from  _ this _ fight.” He stretched, throwing the sheath away and changing his stance. “I  _ will _ kill you. And it  _ will _ hurt, I can  _ assure _ you that much.”

Kannon shook his head, raising his hand away from his wound to tug at his scarf, leaving red stains on it as he loosened it just slightly. He’d been quiet the whole fight, emoting less than any other time Grian had met him, but his expression darkened even further as he stared back at Sarc. “I’m not giving in. Just a change of tactics.”

He lunged; Sarc was too fast to get caught this time, stepping nimbly out of the way.

But something else was even faster.

Kannon’s scarf, the one he’d been  _ wearing while leaving Polythreme _ , was wrapped around the Seeker’s arm, not around its owners’ neck.

“What-”

The sentence was abruptly cut off as Kannon brought one elbow up into Sarc’s face and, in the same fluid motion, kicked at his kneecaps, knocking him backwards. He raised his free hand and the scarf  _ twirled, _ leapt from holding Sarc’s sword-hand through the air around its owners’ raised arm.

Kannon beamed. “Her name’s Silk! We sorted our differences out. Only she’s still got a  _ little _ bit of a taste for blood.”

False elbowed Maddox. “Told you.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say you were  _ wrong _ , Simmons. And anyways, aren’t  _ you _ the person who said  _ Sarc _ was the likely winner?”

False shrugged easily. “That was before I had all the information,” she said, looking pointedly at Grian.

Her voice was raised, just slightly, but it didn’t matter - the whole crowd had broken out into excited whispers as the two fighters disengaged again. Even Ed, who had been watching the whole fight with that same neutral expression on his face, was leaning forward just slightly, eyes focused on the fight.

Sarc raised his free hand and wiped the blood from his face, jagged teeth bared in a snarl. “You brought a  _ party trick _ to a  _ Black Ribbon _ duel? I’m going to  _ shred _ you.” His movement had changed, less steady and more lurching, unpredictable, his eyes glinting with  _ fury. _

“Still not a clear end though,” False amended, and Maddox rolled his eyes.

“Some expert you are,” he muttered.

“I’m better  _ on  _ the field,” False said, tossing her head. “If you’d like to, I could prove it.”

Maddox snorted. “Never been one for duels. They’re too… personal.” Once more, he turned his attention back to the field and the people on it. “But he’s right. The scarf is a party trick.”

Sarc lunged, blade gleaming in the light and opening another deep wound along Kannon’s side. “Cleverness only gets you  _ so far, _ ” he snapped, driving the sword down and narrowly missing as Kannon just barely managed to twist out of the way.

Kannon took a step back, then another as Sarc advanced again. The expression on his face was still calm, but there was something else in the grin slowly spreading across his face as he stretched, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his heels as though the fight had just begun. “That’s true. But I’m not  _ just _ clever.”

Sarc swung again, and he caught the blade with the palm of his hand, not even flinching as he wrapped his hand around it and ripped it straight out of his opponent’s grasp, tossing it aside. The scarf on his hand tightened around the newly opened wound, staunching the bleeding somewhat.

“I am  _ also, _ ” he said, changing his stance, “a  _ very _ dangerous person.”

He lunged forward, injured hand reaching out and other fist drawn back; expecting a blow, Sarc instinctively dodged away from it and directly into the other hand as Kannon grabbed him by the shoulder, caught the other end of his scarf in his now free hand, and kicked the Seeker’s legs out from under him.

Before Sarc could even move to get up, both of Kannon’s hands were on his shoulders, then on the ground next to him, and then the scarf had tied itself around Sarc’s neck and was  _ pulling _ , tighter and tighter; Kannon stood up and put one foot against his opponent’s sword-arm - his dominant hand - and watched, expression grimly satisfied, as Sarc clawed fruitlessly at the scarf around his neck.

Finally, after a full two minutes, Sarc went limp; Kannon kneeled down next to him, pressing two fingers against the inside of his opponent’s wrist as his scarf gently wound back up into the knot it was tied in as the duel began.

“Unconscious,” he muttered, and reached into his pocket, standing back up once more.

A single, sharp  _ CRACK _ echoed across the room.

There were one, two, three heartbeats of silence.

Feducci began to clap first, slowly, then more enthusiastically as others joined him. “Bravo!” he cried as he made his way onto the field to award Kannon his ribbon.

False was staring at Sarc’s body as the field doctor went out to assess the wounds. “I can’t believe it,” she said, almost to herself. “That was...quite the unique fight, to say the least.”

“Definitely,” said Maddox, also in some sort of shock.

“Is that even allowed?” Mumbo asked False, and she shrugged.

“If they didn’t agree on specific weapons, anything goes.” She chuckled slightly. “I’m going to have to duel Kannon to get a feel for him. That fight...well. It certainly was something. I’d be interested to see Kannon go up against Feducci himself. I bet he’d give him quite the challenge.”

Grian, meanwhile, was searching the crowd for Joe while trying to avoid Ed. Joe had vanished as soon as the fight had ended, and despite all the  _ other _ excitement, he was still anxious to ask him more about what a “glassman” was. However, before he could find the poet, Kannon had run directly up to him, somewhat blocking his view of the crowd.

“I think we put on a pretty good show, eh?” Kannon said, grinning ear to ear despite the fact that he was still bleeding from his shoulder. And one side of his torso. And a few other assorted scrapes, for that matter.

“Quite,” Grian replied, peeking over Kannon’s shoulder to see if he could spot Joe. “Wasn’t sure you were going to make it out of that one, but you surprised everyone.”

" _ Almost _ everyone," Kannon amended. "I doubt Ed was surprised. He's pretty hard to catch off-guard. Wait - have you met? You've met, right? Or do I need to introduce you?"

“Nope, nope, we’ve met, an introduction won’t be necessary at all. Not at all. He delivered your invitation to this bout.” Grian grimaced slightly at the memory. “An...interesting fellow, to say the least. How did you two, er, meet?”

Kannon shrugged. "He's my self-sworn nemesis. And also a good friend of mine. Been a while, so I don't remember the specifics - we probably met at a shop somewhere? Or was it the docks?" He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Nope. Don't remember."

“Mm,” Grian murmured, still fruitlessly scanning the crowd before giving up. “Are you going to get your wounds looked at? Don’t they give you Vigour if you win or something?”

“Usually,” False said from behind Grian, inserting herself neatly into the conversation. “Great fight, by the way,” she said to Kannon. “I’m impressed. Sarc’s quite the opponent.”

"Eh. I'll be fine. I heal over quick." Kannon shrugged again, wincing as he accidentally reopened the gash on his arm once more. "He was definitely a little nasty. Think he might be one of those Ribboners that likes to fight to crush other people."

A shadow briefly fell over his face. "Revolting."

False nodded grimly. “I know the type. You’re gonna have to teach me how you handled that axe so smoothly. It’s one of my least practiced weapons.”

"He handles himself," Kannon responded, patting the weapon at his side. "Anyways, I've got something else I have to do, keep in touch, yeah?"

Without another word - not even letting the others get a question in edgewise - the man had already bounded off again into the crowd, clearly heading towards where Ed had been sitting.

“I’ve got to head off too, Grian. See you around,” False said with a little wave. Grian tipped his hat to her as she maneuvered her way through the crowd.

“Grian! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mumbo's voice rang out from directly behind Grian, startling him.

“I’ve been here talking with Kannon and False,” Grian said. “You didn’t happen to see Joe at all, did you?”

Mumbo shook his head. “No, sorry. Do you have anyone else you’d like to talk to or can we leave?”

Grian sighed. He hated writing letters to Joe; the man always sent back pages and pages of nothing and everything that didn’t answer any of Grian’s questions in the slightest. “Nah, we can leave.”

\--

“That Kannon’s quite a character,” Mumbo commented once they’d escaped to the broader part of London.

“You’re telling me. Not to mention the fact that he keeps company with several other ‘quite characters,’” Grian said. “I found out what Ed is, by the way. Joe says he’s a ‘glassman,’ whatever that is.”

“Huh. Wonder how Joe knows that.”

“How does Joe know  _ anything? _ ” Grian asked, throwing his hands up. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was pen pals with the Pope on the Surface.”

Mumbo snickered. “Me either. Still. A glassman. You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“I already have!” Grian protested, but he couldn’t help his growing curiosity.  _ They walk the dreaming roads… _

This was something Grian didn’t know. And if there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing.

**Author's Note:**

> [more about seeker!doc in another fic i'm gonna post! sarc on the other hand is just like that. he's just... he's just like that. doc is a canon-typical seeker and sarc is the epitome of an asshole seeker because he makes a really fun heel.
> 
> this is probably the best fight scene i've ever written.] - solar


End file.
